


chasing what we'll lose

by meiikoro



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Seemingly unrequited love, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, chapters will hopefully get longer, hopefully slow burn if i dedicate myself, i swear they'll be happy in the end, just lots of pining, marriage pact, multi-chapter, oikawa's pov, they're 30 now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiikoro/pseuds/meiikoro
Summary: During their last year of high school, Oikawa and Iwaizumi made a pact that they would get married at age 30 if they were both still single. They haven't spoken in ten years, but on his thirtieth birthday, Oikawa receives a phone call from Iwaizumi, and he's forced to come to terms with his childhood crush on Iwaizumi as they re-enter each other's lives after so long...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> two years after writing my iwaoi wrong number au, i decided to rejoin the iwaoi pain train... it's been a long time since i've written a fic with chapters, so i'm going to try hard to actually update somewhat regularly!!  
[title adapted from lyrics from "jar of love" by wanting]

When Oikawa jolted awake to the intrusive chiming of his ringtone, fumbling to answer his phone, a stack of paper slid onto the floor and he realised with a sinking heart that, once again, he had fallen asleep at his desk.

Without his glasses, which he had somehow misplaced during the night, and with the added drowsiness of waking up in the middle of his sleep cycle, Oikawa couldn’t make out the caller’s name, but he could certainly read the glowing red numbers on the digital clock barely ten centimetres from his nose.

Who the hell was calling him at 3:27am?

“Hello,” he muttered blearily, propping himself up with an elbow and sighing as he dislodged another stack of papers in the process. “Do you have any idea what the time is–”

“Oikawa?”

Oikawa inhaled sharply, nearly falling backwards from the force at which he’d sat up straight in his chair. He didn’t need to check the caller ID to know that the caller was Iwaizumi, even though age had deepened that already deep voice. It was gravellier than Oikawa remembered, somehow simultaneously foreign and familiar.

They hadn’t spoken in ten years.

He was tempted to just hang up there and then, but something stopped him. Perhaps there were remnants of childhood still clinging to his heart.

He didn’t dare to speak, but he didn’t hang up – not yet.

“Oikawa? Are you there?” The rough edges of Iwaizumi’s voice had been blurred and softened from what Oikawa could only guess was alcohol.

Teenage Oikawa would have been spouting nonsense by now, demanding to know what was wrong, babbling about alcohol poisoning – but twenty-nine-year-old Oikawa had left that talkativeness in the past.

Or rather, he realised as his eyes flickered to the calendar above his desk, _thirty_-year-old Oikawa. Stifling a short laugh, he finally spoke.

“Surely you didn’t call just to wish me a happy birthday.”

His words came out harder than intended, but part of him savoured the way the biting tone felt. He knew he shouldn’t have anything against Iwaizumi, after all this time, but Oikawa supposed that things really had changed. Or rather, _he_ had changed.

This time, it was Oikawa’s turn to be on the receiving end of silence.

Using his shoulder to hold his phone to his ear, Oikawa started retrieving the fallen sheets of paper from the floor. “So, what did you need at this fine hour, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi gave what Oikawa assumed was supposed to be a dry laugh, but it sounded more like a mix between a sob and a cough. “You used to call me Iwa-chan,” he blurted, his words merging together as his voice slurred.

“Yeah.”

_Iwa-chan. _Oikawa didn’t dare to repeat aloud the old nickname he’d always used, no matter how tempting it was to find out whether it still rolled off his tongue in the same way.

Another short pause.

“D’you remember when we were eighteen?” Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa couldn’t tell whether his voice sounded uncharacteristically tender or just drunk.

Oh yes, Oikawa remembered being eighteen all too well. He remembered the volleyball games they’d won and lost, the ridiculous amount of time he’d spent with Iwaizumi, the jokes he’d shared with friends and teammates, his stupid childhood crush on his precious Iwa-chan…

“Yeah, I remember.” He finally found his glasses on the floor after accidentally nudging them with his foot. Straightening them onto the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair, Oikawa sighed. “I have to work tomorrow, so if you’re just going to reminisce, I guess I’ll go back to sleep.”

He didn’t want to talk about the past; hell, he didn’t even want to _think_ about the past.

But before Oikawa could hang up, Iwaizumi, somehow sounding even more drunk than earlier, finally reached the topic he’d obviously been leading up to. “Remember that pact we made?”

Oikawa’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “No,” he responded, automatically denying it, because that was what he’d always done, what they’d both always done.

Even though they had both always known far too well that they remembered it – that they _both_ remembered it. 

Iwaizumi ploughed on, unaware of Oikawa’s thoughts; clearly, he was a talkative drunk. “Said that we’ll always be friends, yeah? And if we’re both single at thirty, we’ll get married.”

It was the first time that either of them had admitted it out loud, and a part of Oikawa wished it was still buried in the past.

It had been their final year of high school, and Oikawa had fallen in love with his best friend. It had kind of been inevitable, he reflected with a wry smile, because who _wouldn’t _fall in love with their best friend when said best friend happened to be Iwaizumi Hajime? There was only so much playful banter, childish teasing and reluctant companionship Oikawa could handle before he realised that he was starting to see Iwaizumi as more than just Iwa-chan, but _his_ Iwa-chan.

At first, he had tried to convince himself that it wasn’t possible – after all, they were just _very good friends_, and Oikawa just really loved _their friendship_, and anything he might possibly feel for Iwaizumi was obviously just his mind playing tricks on him because they were such _close friends _and he was just confused – but a few months before graduation, Oikawa finally gave in and admitted it to himself.

In some ways, it made things less stressful; without the constant internal struggle, it was easier to just forget about his feelings and act naturally around Iwaizumi. But then, the question that plagued him was: _should I tell him? _

All along, he had known not to say anything, because it was better to just be friends forever than risk it all for a crush that might not even last – but then they had to go and make that stupid pact.

It was January, and Oikawa had managed to get them invited to a female classmate’s party. At the time, he’d been so pleased with himself, boasting to Iwaizumi, “See, Iwa-chan, if it wasn’t for me, you’d never have the opportunity to meet any girls!”

Yet, there was still a part of him that had always wondered why he was even trying to introduce girls to Iwaizumi. The thought stung a little.

They’d gotten a little tipsy, and Oikawa had decided it would be a good idea to declare drunkenly, “Hey, Iwa-chan?”

They’d been sitting outside in a last attempt to escape the noise inside, and Iwaizumi had shivered from the cold.

Oikawa had thought the dusting of pink across Iwaizumi’s cheeks was cute, smiling to himself as Iwaizumi met his gaze. “Yeah?”

“If we’re both single by the time we’re thirty, let’s get married!” Oikawa had let out a slight giggle, feeling almost giddy from the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline.

Iwaizumi had taken another sip of whatever he was drinking, before nodding. “Yeah, why not?”

Oikawa hadn’t been senseless enough to fully admit everything, but there was something about knowing that they still had the chance of being connected in the future that had made his heart beat that tiny bit faster. And the fact that Iwaizumi hadn’t been opposed to the idea – well, he hadn’t made a comment like “We aren’t gay, so why would we get married?”, so Oikawa considered that a positive response – had certainly lifted Oikawa’s spirits.

But the next day, Oikawa had realised how stupid he had sounded, and he supposed that Iwaizumi had been equally as mortified, because they just went on with their lives and pretended it had never happened – at least, until now.

After another prolonged silence, Oikawa sighed. It was better to just admit to it and get on with the conversation so he could go to sleep. “I remember. What about it?”

“We’re both thirty,” Iwaizumi mumbled, audibly taking another swig of his drink and exhaling heavily. “And, well, I’m single now.”

“We’re not getting married.” Oikawa hung up, chucking the phone onto his empty bed in the culmination of his frustration. Yes, he was single too, but Iwaizumi didn’t need to know that. From the sound of it, Iwaizumi had just had a messy breakup and was just looking for a rebound.

_No, _Oikawa corrected himself, pulling his pyjamas on and getting ready to sleep – actually in his bed this time. _Not a rebound. Iwaizumi’s straight, so he’s clearly just looking for a friend to cry to. It’s sad, really, that he happened to choose me for that. I guess he saw the date, realised we’re both thirty, and remembered me. _

He knew he shouldn’t have just felt that sudden pang of disappointment.

His phone rang. Iwaizumi again. Oikawa supposed he’d better just console the idiot and tell him that his ex-girlfriend was obviously an awful person and that eventually he’ll find the one. And then they could both go to sleep and forget about each other again.

Just like last time.

Against his better judgement and his need for sleep, Oikawa picked up the call. Funny how a pathetic childhood crush can make you do things for people, he mused drily. “Yeah?”

“I’m not… asking to get married,” Iwaizumi tried to explain, but Oikawa wished he would just stop talking; the peculiar hopelessness in Iwaizumi’s voice evoked emotions he didn’t want to feel. “I just…”

He trailed off, and Oikawa stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth, once again resting the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

Iwaizumi took a shaky breath. “We broke up a few hours ago,” he revealed, and even Oikawa, who’d tried to distance himself from all feelings related to Iwaizumi, had to feel sorry for him. “We’d been together for nearly three years but then we’d been fighting recently and he just–”

Oikawa swallowed his toothpaste in shock. “_He_?” he demanded, before wishing he’d just held his tongue instead. Whoever Iwaizumi dated wasn’t important to him, and he had no right to pry into Iwaizumi’s personal affairs. He had just… never known.

He squeezed out some more toothpaste and started brushing his teeth again, but promptly choked again when Iwaizumi admitted, “I never told you this, but I-I actually like guys. I actually thought you would’ve guessed, ’cause I never cared about girls like you did in high school. And I–”

Iwaizumi was speaking faster and faster, and his words were becoming more and more incoherent, and Oikawa couldn’t handle it anymore. Even though he hadn’t been the one to initiate the conversation, he felt like he was intruding on Iwaizumi’s life.

_Why didn’t you tell me back when we were younger and told each other everything?_ he wanted to ask, but realised that he had no right to question Iwaizumi’s decisions when he himself had never brought up the conversation in the past either. He barely even had the right to know about this now.

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Oikawa managed to mutter through the remains of his toothpaste. “You shouldn’t be telling _me_, of all people. Especially now. Have you forgotten how long it’s been since we last spoke?”

“You told me to be more open with you when we were in high school,” Iwaizumi slurred, and Oikawa felt a pang of regret. For whatever reason, Iwaizumi’s breakup had really thrown him back into the past, and Oikawa couldn’t exactly ignore his friend when he was so clearly distraught.

The words “We aren’t in high school anymore” were on the tip of Oikawa’s tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Instead, he found himself muttering, “We can talk tomorrow, alright? But right now, I need to sleep.”

Iwaizumi was silent for a moment, before gruffly mumbling, “Thanks, Shittykawa. Really means a lot–”

“Night.” Oikawa hung up, turning his attention back to brushing his teeth a little more vigorously than he usually would.

He didn’t cut Iwaizumi off because he didn’t care, but because he was starting to think he cared a little more than he should.


	2. Chapter 2

When Oikawa’s alarm woke him only a few hours later, he seriously contemplated going back to sleep and just calling in sick. He had a pounding headache, but, he realised as he blindly reached for the glass of water he left on his bedside table, Iwaizumi’s headache was probably far worse after all the alcohol he’d clearly consumed.

_Iwaizumi. _

Oikawa dragged himself out of bed and blearily checked his phone for messages. Nothing. A faint sense of relief washed over him – one less thing to deal with in the morning – but it was quickly replaced by dread.

He was going to have to talk to Iwaizumi eventually.

Oikawa wasn’t sure whether or not he actually wanted to hear from Iwaizumi. Everything just hit too close to home; reliving his childhood crush wasn’t exactly how he hoped to spend his birthday. Although, frankly, going to work wasn’t particularly high on his list of birthday activities either – but, Oikawa thought with a weary sigh, he didn’t really celebrate his birthday much anymore.

He had read somewhere that when he reached forty-five, he would be classified as ‘middle-aged’, but Oikawa truly felt that he’d become middle-aged the moment he turned thirty. After all, you really had to be middle-aged to not even care about your birthday, he mused.

Part of him wondered if this was what his teenage self would have pictured in his future. No, he realised immediately, if somebody had suggested becoming a project manager for an advertising agency to him back then, he would have laughed in their face and declared “I’m going to become a professional volleyball player!”

Things had sort of spiralled since Oikawa had graduated from high school. He had dropped out of the university volleyball team due to his knee injury, changed degrees twice and completely lost contact with Iwaizumi all within two years after graduating. And now he’d lost all passion in his life – he couldn’t remember the last time he touched a volleyball, couldn’t remember the last time he caught up with his high school friends, couldn’t even remember the last time he winked and pulled a peace sign.

He had always had such high expectations and goals for himself in high school that it was almost inevitable for him to burn out one day. Overworking his knee had only been the beginning, but Oikawa knew that he wouldn’t trade those years of playing volleyball for anything in the world.

Reaching middle age at thirty was pathetic.

He was almost tempted to ring Iwaizumi there and then.

Almost.

Later that morning, as he forced a smile while trying not to strangle the insufferable members of the creative team he was trying to reason with, Oikawa tried to push the thought of reconnecting with Iwaizumi to the back of his mind.

But despite his best efforts to concentrate, Oikawa couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if he finally allowed himself to revisit his childhood. He didn’t exactly have anything to lose – he certainly wasn’t at a high point in his life – so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if Iwaizumi called again.

Yet, when he returned to his apartment that evening, worn out after a taxing day of trying to convince the creative team that it simply wasn’t reasonable to go overseas to film when they were already on such a tight budget, Oikawa still felt a heavy sense of apprehension at the thought of talking to Iwaizumi again.

As usual, he kicked off his shoes at the door and tossed his bag onto his desk before wandering into the kitchen. He caught a glimpse out the window as he poured himself a glass of water; the same grey buildings stared back at him like they did every day. Oikawa wasn’t sure why he bothered looking out the window anymore when there was nothing new to see.

And Iwaizumi still hadn’t called, which made Oikawa even more on edge than usual.

_Didn’t I literally tell him we’d talk today? _he wondered in exasperation as he cracked an egg into the frying pan, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart. Firstly, he tried to convince himself, Iwaizumi was probably just busy and hadn’t had time to contact him. Oikawa wished Iwaizumi would just ring him and get it over and done with so that he could snap out of this state of being so damn _nervous. _

Secondly, and more importantly, he really needed to stop thinking about Iwaizumi. Taking off his glasses to rub his eyes in frustration, Oikawa realised that his thought process was just going around in frantic circles – _I don’t want to talk to him, I want to talk to him, I don’t care, I do care_ – which was something that he hadn’t experienced in years.

Not since he was eighteen and struggling to work out his feelings for Iwaizumi.

_Shut the fuck up, _he told his brain sternly, flipping the egg onto a bowl of rice and settling down to eat at the kitchen bench.

It tasted bland.

For someone who barely ate out or socialised, usually choosing to just save himself the effort of going out by cooking at home, Oikawa’s kitchen and living area were incredibly clean – almost overly clean. There were no stray bills scattered across the table, no bright calendar with scribbled birthdays and events, no dirty dishes abandoned in the sink – he only cooked for himself, so he rarely had more than one bowl to wash up. He didn’t even have a friendly potted plant under the window.

His apartment wasn’t worn out, but it certainly felt tired – cold and impersonal, just like its resident.

Seven o’clock passed, then nine, then eleven, and Oikawa found himself staring at his phone, waiting, waiting for Iwaizumi to call him. Every so often, he would stand up and walk an anxious lap around the living room, but always returned to his phone, tapping his fingers against the benchtop in nervous anticipation. 

Mindlessly clicking on Iwaizumi’s name in his contacts – he wasn’t sure what compelled him to do so – Oikawa scrolled through their most recent messages. The latest was dated exactly ten years ago:

_hey iwa-chan, haven’t talked in a while! it’s my birthday today _(ﾉ≧ڡ≦)~☆ _wanna come eat with me & yuna-chan tonight? she’s my girlfriend but i don’t think you’ve met her yet!! _

Iwaizumi had never replied.

Oikawa swiped out of their message history as quickly as possible, trying to dispel the memory of his twentieth birthday, but it was hard to forget a night so, well, _eventful_, for want of a better word.

He’d liked his girlfriend, but not as much as he liked Iwaizumi, because he’d only started dating her as a last resort to try to distract himself from thinking about Iwaizumi. He supposed he hadn’t really hidden his feelings well, because Yuna had certainly realised that he wasn’t focused on her.

“Sometimes I think you like Iwaizumi more than me,” she had sighed that night after Oikawa pointed out multiple times that Iwaizumi hadn’t been replying to his texts lately and how sad he was that Iwaizumi couldn’t make it. “Isn’t this meant to be _our_ dinner together? Aren’t you dating _me_?” Her voice had hitched as she slowly but obviously started to rise from her seat, shouldering her bag as she prepared to leave. “But I know you wish you were actually dating _him_.”

She had said it before – joking that Oikawa seemed to think about Iwaizumi more than he thought about her – but he had never really noticed the coldness in her voice before that night. He had never thought about how she had felt about it all, how she’d felt when she realised that the man she had been committed to actually cared more about his best friend.

Oikawa hadn’t been able to deny it, because everything she said had been true, but his eyes had stung as she cast him a last brief smile – she didn’t even attempt to mask the hurt in her eyes – and walked out. As he had sat there, alone at the table, abandoned by both his best friend and his girlfriend, Oikawa had wondered why he had even bothered trying to invite Iwaizumi at all.

That was the moment when he had decided it might just be best to just stop trying to contact Iwaizumi. He had glanced up at the shimmering fairy lights adorning the restaurant’s ceiling and vowed to forget Iwaizumi, to forget Yuna, to just forget everything and start fresh again. Everything was going to work out in the end, he had told himself, but soon enough, the lights above him had blurred and he had tasted salt.

Twenty was supposed to be a good age, but Oikawa had left the restaurant without taking even a single sip of what would have been his first legal drink.

And now here he was, a lonely thirty-year-old pathetically waiting for a phone call from the very person who had never replied to his message ten years ago.

He was sick of waiting.

Oikawa took a deep breath and pressed _call. _

On the third ring, Iwaizumi picked up. “Uh… hello? Iwaizumi speaking.”

At least he was sober this time, Oikawa thought in relief, taking note of the absence of bleariness in Iwaizumi’s voice.

“Hi, Iwaizumi…” he began, sinking onto the couch and putting his feet up in an attempt to relax the nerves that had suddenly surfaced.

To Oikawa’s surprise, Iwaizumi sounded confused. “Wait, _Oikawa_?”

Oikawa leaned back, his glasses slipping off his face as he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Why are you calling me?” His tone was almost accusatory – such a contrast to his strangely endearing soft manner while drunk.

A pulse of irritation ran through Oikawa and he snapped, “You haven’t contacted me since you woke me up in the middle of the night absolutely smashed and lowkey suggested we get _married_.”

“What the fuck?” Iwaizumi demanded, more than just a trace of coldness in his voice. “We haven’t talked in over ten years.”

Oikawa fumbled to pick up his glasses as his heart dropped. “You called me at three am,” he found himself whispering, picking at a loose stitch on his pyjamas. Iwaizumi didn’t remember. “You were drunk. You told me it was because of your breakup.”

Iwaizumi swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice softening. “I must’ve been really drunk, because I don’t remember a thing. I really shouldn’t’ve have called you.”

He sounded like he was getting ready to wind up the conversation and hang up, but Oikawa felt a sharp jolt of panic. “No, I really – it’s okay,” he insisted, putting his glasses back on and curling his knees up to his chest. “You sounded really bothered by it, so I was starting to get worried, but I was tired so I told you we could talk today. It’s just that you never called me back.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply through his nose. “What did I actually tell you?”

He sounded so concerned that Oikawa bit his lip. Perhaps it would be better to ease Iwaizumi’s mind and not tell him the full truth of their conversation. “Uhh…” Oikawa mumbled, trying to quickly decide what to disclose. “Well, like I said already, you brought up that pact we made in high school – you know, the one where we promised to get marr–”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi cut him off; clearly, he was equally as embarrassed by it.

“And you said you broke up with…” Oikawa trailed off, his mind whirling. Iwaizumi had never told him he was gay before that morning, which meant he probably hadn’t meant to confess it during his drunken call. It was probably better to just pretend he knew nothing, because Oikawa didn’t exactly want to make Iwaizumi feel uncomfortable in their first proper conversation in ten years. “You said you broke up with someone.”

“That’s all?” Iwaizumi asked.

A part of Oikawa hated hearing the uncertainty in Iwaizumi’s voice and wished he could just tell him that he knew already and that it was okay and that Iwaizumi could talk to him about it and that he understood and–

There were a lot of things Oikawa wanted to say, but he didn’t.

“That’s all,” he confirmed.

He was probably imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he heard Iwaizumi let out a barely audible breath.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” Iwaizumi admitted gruffly. “I know it’s been a long time and it would’ve been so out of the blue.” He gave a dry, hesitant laugh that was so familiar to Oikawa. “I guess you probably wouldn’t have really wanted to hear from me anyway. I’m surprised you actually called just now; it would’ve made more sense if you’d just pretended it never happened.”

Oikawa hugged his knees, wishing Iwaizumi’s words didn’t hurt the way they did. “No, it’s really fine!” he blurted, hating how the pitch of his voice rose. “It actually…” He took another deep breath. It seemed it was time to actually take the first step in repairing their friendship and moving beyond his apparent slump. “It actually got me thinking – it’s been such a long time since we talked, but those years really were the best. Surely it can’t hurt to, well, reconnect, right?”

He held his breath, not really wanting to hear Iwaizumi’s response. He wouldn’t blame Iwaizumi though, if he didn’t want to keep in contact again – after all, just that morning, all Oikawa had felt towards Iwaizumi was bitterness, so he wouldn’t expect Iwaizumi to feel any differently.

To Oikawa’s shock, Iwaizumi’s voice didn’t revert to its initial coldness. “After I call you in the middle of the night, crying about a breakup and reminiscing about our childhood, you actually want to be friends again?” He laughed again, but this time, it wasn’t stilted; it rolled off his tongue easily, just like the natural laughter that Oikawa used to hear whenever they were messing around in the past.

Oikawa shook his head in disbelief, trying to interpret Iwaizumi’s words. “So, you–”

“God, Shittykawa, if I had known you’d be like this, I would’ve called years ago.”

Oikawa hadn’t expected the sudden tenderness in Iwaizumi’s voice; it had the sort of quality that made Oikawa feel warm, _comfortable_, even. This sort of softness had always been rare from Iwaizumi, but he supposed that was because they’d spent most of their childhood teasing each other. He inhaled quickly, trying to dispel the image of Iwaizumi’s face from his mind.

Oikawa suddenly remembered why he’d fallen in love with Iwaizumi all those years ago.

He forced a laugh, even though really, all he wanted to do was cry. “I can’t believe it’s been so long,” he managed, wondering how it had been possible for him to shut Iwaizumi out of his life completely for so many years.

Oikawa remembered it well. After graduating from high school, they had attended different universities, somehow still managing to keep up their friendship. At first, it had been wonderful – although they had played on different volleyball teams, they often had the opportunity to play against each other, and Oikawa had always found a little healthy competition refreshing. But as his knee worsened, bringing his general outlook on life down with it, and he was forced to stop playing, Oikawa had started to notice things – like the way Iwaizumi would always cancel plans with his new friends just to hang out with Oikawa.

Oikawa hadn’t wanted Iwaizumi to feel obliged to hang out with him; he had never intended for Iwaizumi to feel restricted by their friendship, and, engulfed by the culmination of all his stress and worry, he had decided that perhaps he had been too clingy. If he let go of all his feelings and moved on from Iwaizumi once and for all, then maybe he would be able to be friends with Iwaizumi without feeling bad every time he took Iwaizumi from whatever he would probably rather be doing.

It had been a foolproof plan, but it seemed that Oikawa must have overlooked something, because after he got a girlfriend and tried to direct purely platonic feelings towards Iwaizumi, they had become distant almost immediately. Slowly but surely, Iwaizumi had stopped hanging out with him and even talking to him, and Oikawa had never figured out what had gone wrong.

Shaking his head, he reminded himself that there was no point thinking about what had happened back then, because they were past that now. He needed to turn his attention to the more pressing matter at hand – ensuring that he didn’t lapse back into his childhood crush.

But it was hard to avoid his old feelings when Iwaizumi said with a soft chuckle, “I suppose you should sleep, considering I woke you up so early. But before I go…” A pause. “I missed you, Shittykawa. And, of course, happy thirtieth. And…” His tone softened again, and Oikawa had to force himself to stop thinking about the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice. “I really hope it’s better than your twentieth.”

Oikawa found himself smiling without realising it, just like he used to when he talked to Iwaizumi. “Thanks,” he murmured, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Night, Iwa-chan.”

It was barely a whisper, but he was almost certain that Iwaizumi heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no pain no gain


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well......... i finally return...... i'm sorry it's really been ages since i've updated!!!! i'm really going to try hard to update more regularly from now on!!!

Oikawa didn’t contact Iwaizumi for the next couple of days – he didn’t want to seem desperate – but he knew he would have to take the initiative sometime soon, lest Iwaizumi thought Oikawa wasn’t interested in reconnecting again.

But Iwaizumi didn’t contact him either. There was just empty space between them, and for the first time since they’d lost contact all those years ago, Oikawa could feel the tense silence.

He desperately wanted to message Iwaizumi, to say something – anything – that could help to properly break the ice between them. Yet every time he picked up his phone, he didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like high school, where small talk was easy over text; back then, there had always been something to talk about, but now, what could he say?

_What have you been doing for the past ten years? _Too forced, intrusive even.

_Are you seeing anybody? _He already knew the answer to that.

_Want to hang out? _Too soon. He would sound clingy.

Oikawa wanted to say nothing and everything at the same time.

It was midday on Friday, and he had snuck into a back storeroom to take a much-deserved break from the creative team that had been hounding him all week. Strictly speaking, his lunch break wasn’t scheduled for another hour, but he knew that if he didn’t get away from his co-workers now, he wasn’t going be able to take a break at all.

He leaned against a stack of cardboard boxes and sighed, his eyes slowly adjusting to the semi-darkness. This particular storeroom was rarely used anymore – nobody dared touch the piles of abandoned project files filling up almost the entire space – so it was the perfect spot for Oikawa to hide when things got too much.

He would never have hidden like this in high school, Oikawa mused; he had always faced problems head-on. He would’ve been out there demanding order and keeping his co-workers in line. But, he reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time since speaking to Iwaizumi again, he was different now.

Honestly, part of Oikawa felt that it was a good thing they’d re-established contact; perhaps he needed to emulate his high school self’s mentality a little more.

Hurriedly shovelling a couple of mouthfuls of cold rice into his mouth, Oikawa turned on his phone, squinting as the bright light illuminated the room. He repeatedly opened and closed the messaging app, fingers hovering over Iwaizumi’s name.

“Oikawa-san?” Even from down the corridor, he could hear the familiar, overly cheery voice of the head of the creative team. “Where did you go? I want to check something with you!”

Desperation kicked in as Oikawa called back, “I’ll just be a moment!” and then suddenly, he found himself typing a message to Iwaizumi, not even bothering to read it before tapping ‘send’.

He stowed his phone in his pocket, shoved his lunch into his briefcase, and strolled out of the room perfectly calmly, as though he hadn’t just messaged Iwaizumi out of sheer panic. If he hadn’t been interrupted and distracted by the thought of the creative team, there was no way he would’ve sent anything at all.

Oikawa didn’t have another opportunity to check his phone until the end of the day. Just as he had predicted, he had been forced to skip his lunch break because mediating between creative and finance was currently his top priority. Stressed and distracted by the thought of the message he had sent, Oikawa had desperately attempted to sneak a glance at his phone multiple times during the afternoon, but each time, he had been pulled away to sort out yet another task.

He was just heading down the train station stairs, exhausted and very much wishing he worked with less insufferable people, when an announcement blared: “The 5:46 pm train scheduled for Platform 2 has been delayed indefinitely. All passengers heading south on the red line are recommended to catch the 5:49 pm train on Platform 5 for four stops, and then transfer to the blue line. We apologise for the inconvenience.”

Oikawa sighed, turning around to head in the opposite direction, but he could tell just from the swarm of people all turning the same way that it would be a long journey home.

He missed the first train on Platform 5; the platform was too crowded, and despite slipping through the hordes of people, he was still unable to make it anywhere near the train doors. Platform 2 was the most popular platform at the station – its line had the most direct route and trains usually arrived every few minutes – so Platform 5 was packed.

The second train came and left in an instant, with more people piling on, but Oikawa was not among them. It was only when the third train arrived that Oikawa managed to squish himself on, sliding into a gap between a university student playing a mobile game and an old woman who shot him a brief smile.

By the time he returned home, it was nearly seven o’clock, and Oikawa wanted nothing more than to just lie down in bed, but he hadn’t eaten since his secret break at eleven, and he knew he needed to eat _something_.

Oikawa took a shower and changed into his pyjamas, still resisting the urge to fall asleep there and then. He checked his phone, briefly scrolling through various social media apps before checking his messages. Iwaizumi’s name was at the top of the list, and Oikawa inhaled sharply. Iwaizumi had responded to his earlier message. He nervously tapped into the chat, only to cringe straight away.

**11:23 am – Oikawa: **Hey iwachan just wonderinf if youd want tp cstch up soemtime

**5:31 pm – Iwaizumi: **Yeah why not

**5:31 pm – Iwaizumi: **When are you free?

Oikawa took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. There were so many things about that message that he hated. He had called Iwaizumi ‘Iwa-chan’, he had casually suggested meeting up, and worst of all, the message was riddled with spelling errors. Unprofessional – especially for someone whose job literally depended on their ability to communicate with others.

He wanted to respond straight away and tell Iwaizumi that he was free just about every night, but he couldn’t say he wanted to admit to having such a bland social life. Particularly as he was the one who had spent high school revelling in his popularity and teasing Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi didn’t need to know how much Oikawa’s life had changed.

Oikawa turned on the TV and devoured a bowl of instant ramen, forgetting about Iwaizumi and the message for an hour or so as he mindlessly scrolled through channels. There was a volleyball tournament on, but he made sure to flick past that one, settling for a low-budget crime show.

“I can’t believe you killed my husband!” the woman in the show raged, tossing her bleached hair theatrically and pushing the man opposite her away.

The man, whose eyes were wide, hissed, “I only did it for you!” He turned to the police officer, who hadn’t even made a move to detain him and was just watching the whole situation play out. “You don’t understand any of this!” He choked out a sob, before wiping his face with a collared sleeve and continuing, “All I wanted was to be with you! I would be here to console you after your husband’s death, and then you’d be mine!”

The woman pushed him away again. “You killed my husband – your best friend – because you thought I would turn to you in my grief?” She turned away, disgusted.

“Please,” the man begged, and the only thing stopping him from falling to his knees was the police officer taking hold of his arm. “I knew I could only have one of you – and I wanted _you_!”

“Well,” the woman sniffed, refusing to meet his gaze. “Now you’ve got neither of us. I could _never _love a murderer.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, watching as the police officer dragged the man away. He was pretty sure he had watched five different shows with the exact same plot. Man kills best friend for love interest. How predictable.

It was funny how that sort of thing could never apply to him, when the two were one and the same, he thought idly.

_Shit,_ he realised, running a hand through his hair and abruptly changing the channel. He needed to stop thinking about Iwaizumi that way, or he really would be reverting to his high school self.

Yet, just as he had settled down to watch a cooking show, all thoughts of Iwaizumi cleared from his mind by the strangely numb calm of watching somebody else cook, Oikawa’s phone rang. And it was just his luck that the caller was none other than Iwaizumi.

He turned the TV’s volume down slightly and answered the call, relieved that Iwaizumi had taken the first step to contacting him. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi! Shittykawa!”

Oikawa knew straight away from the way his voice slurred that Iwaizumi was drunk again, but this time, he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of tears. Rather, it was the opposite.

“Are you at a bar?” Oikawa wondered, trying to make out the noises in the background. He muted the TV and downed a glass of water, feeling suddenly restless.

There was a clatter and a cheer. “Yeah!” Iwaizumi declared, and Oikawa couldn’t help but smile at the cheerfulness in Iwaizumi’s voice. “I’m with some friends!”

Oikawa’s smile disappeared, and he hated himself for the way jealousy crept in. Of course Iwaizumi would be out with friends. It was a Friday night; there was no reason for Iwaizumi to be sitting around watching cooking shows and moping.

“Nice,” he remarked, trying to keep his voice light. “Hope you’re having fun!” He paused, before realising that Iwaizumi had been the one to call. “Oh, yeah, what did you need?”

“Uhh…” Iwaizumi seemed unsure. “I dunno. Just wanted to say hi.”

Oikawa was about to say goodbye when a vaguely familiar voice crackled through his phone. “Iwa, who’re you talking to?” There was a sharp exclamation, and the sound of Iwaizumi’s phone being grabbed. “Wait, _Oikawa_? Oikawa _Tooru_? Iwa, how the fu–”

_Oh, god, how do I know that voice?_ Oikawa desperately tried to place it, wondering how he could possibly know somebody who Iwaizumi was friends with – presumably a colleague of his.

“Oi, Mattsun, give it back!” Iwaizumi slurred, and Oikawa nearly dropped his own phone. Iwaizumi was still friends with Matsukawa. Matsukawa from high school, from _volleyball_.

Matsukawa had stayed friends with Iwaizumi, but not with him. Oikawa supposed it was his own fault, though – he hadn’t exactly made an effort to stay in contact with anybody after everything happened.

Oikawa tried not to let it get to him, but it still hurt.

But somehow, curiosity got the better of him and he demanded, “Mattsun?”

“Oh my god,” whispered another voice in the background. “It’s really him. Holy shit, Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa bit his lip, staring blankly at the muted cooking show. The woman was pouring an entire bag of prawns into a bowl of vegetables. It didn’t look appetising in the slightest. “Makki?”

These were names he hadn’t heard in years – hadn’t _said_ in years – but they rolled off his tongue as though it had been yesterday.

“I’m putting it on speaker, okay, Iwa?” Oikawa could hear Matsukawa’s muffled voice. “Hey,” Matsukawa said, his voice louder and clearer. “Wanna come meet us here? Iwa’s been talking about you all evening and said–”

Hanamaki shushed him. “Yeah, you should come over! It’s been so long, Oikawa – you’ve gotta tell us what’s been going on for all these years!”

Oikawa’s shoulders slumped. The woman on the cooking show was mashing the prawns into the salad. “Haha…” He forced a laugh, dropping his gaze to look at the floor. “I haven’t really been up to much…”

“We’re at that bar right near your old uni,” Iwaizumi declared, still sounding uncharacteristically happy. Oikawa didn’t know that Iwaizumi could be both a crying drunk and a happy drunk.

Oikawa knew exactly which bar Iwaizumi was talking about, but he had never been there with him. He’d visited it a couple of times with various university friends, but he’d always wanted to – yet never had the chance to – go with Iwaizumi. By the time Oikawa was a legal drinker, they had stopped talking.

“Wait, you’re still in the area, right?” Matsukawa demanded, and Oikawa could tell from the pronounced rise and fall in his voice that he was tipsy too. “You haven’t, like, moved overseas or something?”

Oikawa turned the TV off, chucking the remote onto the other side of the couch. “I moved a little. I’m about thirty, forty minutes away from where I used to study.” For the first time, he felt himself relaxing. “I’m surprised you guys are still around here too.”

Hanamaki laughed. “Yeah, well, just like you. We’ve all moved too, but the bar near your uni is kinda like a midpoint between us. So then nobody has to travel too far for us to hang out.”

Oikawa felt bitterness overcome him again and he glowered at the dark TV screen, fiddling with the button on the cuff of his sleeve. “Oh, do you all hang out regularly?”

“Yeah!” Iwaizumi sounded far too happy about that.

Matsukawa let out a short laugh, probably noticing Oikawa’s tone. “Don’t be jealous, Oikawa. It’s not like we’re all co-workers or anything. We’re just drinking buddies, y’know.”

“We didn’t think you would want us bothering you, so we didn’t call you up,” Hanamaki added. “You never contacted us either, you know. We always _wanted _to see you again; we just weren’t sure if you did.”

Oikawa sighed. “Yeah.” He was still a little shocked that his friends were still close, but there was something about hearing all their voices – hearing that they _wanted_ to see him – that made him wish more than ever that he was there with them.

He took a deep breath. “So, uh, I guess I’ll come over then.”

Oikawa hung up before he could hear the others’ response.

He couldn’t say he wanted to take another train after that evening’s struggle, but the urge to see his old friends was too strong, and Oikawa found himself rushing to change back into his work suit again before dashing out the door to catch yet another train.

The bar was just as he remembered it from his university days: small and rather cramped, but for the first time, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Oikawa had to push his way through the rowdier people near the front, but soon he saw three familiar faces squeezed up in a booth much closer to the actual bar.

The first person he recognised was Iwaizumi, whose clean-shaven face was more angular and defined than Oikawa remembered. His dark eyes were still piercing, but held a softer expression, Oikawa thought. Or maybe it was just the alcohol softening his gaze. He looked less like a stubborn teenager and more like a… reliable adult. He looked sure of himself without being arrogant, confident without being domineering.

And Oikawa could see the muscles through his shirt.

“Hi,” Oikawa said uselessly, suddenly lost for words as he approached the booth. And suddenly extremely conscious of his own messy hair, dishevelled work suit, and complete _lack _of muscles.

Iwaizumi stared at him for a moment, before his face broke out into a wide grin. “Oikawa!” He slid along the seat, beckoning for Oikawa to sit next to him.

For a second, Oikawa just stared back at Iwaizumi, but something compelled him to take the seat. Iwaizumi shook his hand as Oikawa sat down, before reaching over and pulling him into a hug.

Oikawa froze.

He was just about to reach out his own arms and reciprocate the hug when Iwaizumi let go. “It’s been so long,” Iwaizumi slurred happily, and Oikawa realised how close they were sitting. He could smell the alcohol on Iwaizumi’s breath.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, leaning back and straightening his glasses. He really shouldn’t be acting like this, especially now. He wasn’t in the place to swoon over Iwaizumi; he really, _really _shouldn’t get ahead of himself and just go and fully fall for him again. It shouldn’t be this hard to get over a childhood crush, he berated himself. So why was he absolutely, _completely_ swept back into the past by one single interaction?

Luckily, his thoughts were interrupted by Matsukawa, who passed him a drink. “Hey, Oikawa!” His face had filled out more, and his jawline was covered with a thin layer of stubble. He would’ve looked older and so much more mature if his face wasn’t flushed from drinking. “How’s it been? Gotten up to anything notable?”

Oikawa took a sip. “I’m a project manager. I really don’t do anything exciting, you know,” he pointed out, but Matsukawa just laughed.

“C’mon, do you really think any of us have done anything exciting either?” Matsukawa shook his head in amusement, his dark eyes glinting with mirth. “We’re _adults_. We have _jobs_. God, _this _is the most exciting thing I’ve done lately.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hanamaki retorted, rolling his eyes with a teasing grin. He looked just the same, Oikawa realised. Unlike the others, who had certainly grown up. The only difference was that he was actually wearing a full business suit, which did give him an air of professionalism. Only slightly, though – Oikawa knew Hanamaki too well to assume that that man could ever _actually_ be sophisticated. “_I’ve_ been having the time of my life.”

Matsukawa returned the eye-roll. “Makki’s a _businessman_,” he drawled, as though that explained everything. “He invests in _stocks_.” He turned to face Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “It’s hardly fair for him to earn so much money from doing so little work, right?”

“So?” Hanamaki demanded, leaning an elbow onto the table. “You’re a goddamn engineer – don’t say you don’t earn money either!”

Matsukawa put an arm over Hanamaki’s shoulders. “I literally design and build _sewerage systems_,” he pointed out jokingly, grabbing Hanamaki’s drink and taking a long swig. “Every day I spend at work is another day I could be spending not thinking about sewers. I deserve a fucking pay rise.”

Hanamaki snatched his drink back and holding it out of Matsukawa’s reach. “Oi, Mattsun!”

“Come on, rich man, share your drink with me,” Matsukawa pleaded, grasping for Hanamaki’s drink again. “You _know_ my girlfriend’s gonna kill me if I spend money on alcohol.”

Something suddenly changed in Hanamaki’s face; he hid it quickly with a laugh, but it wasn’t lost on Oikawa.

“Your girlfriend,” Hanamaki declared jovially as he took a sip of his drink, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, “would’ve been better off if she’d killed you already.”

Matsukawa nodded. “Probably. She has to hear me talk about shit all day. And I mean that quite literally.”

As Hanamaki downed his drink and adjusted his collar, laughing at what Matsukawa said, Oikawa recognised with a jolt the same wistful look in his eyes that had been there in high school. He had known that Hanamaki had had some sort of crush on Matsukawa during high school, but he had practically forgotten about it until that night. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were close, so Oikawa had always assumed that they would eventually talk about it and either get together or move on amicably.

But apparently Oikawa wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten over his childhood crush.

He supposed it was a completely different situation for Hanamaki. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been closer emotionally compared to Hanamaki and Matsukawa, with a friendship that had always been a mixture of annoyance and surprising tenderness. So, it wasn’t really all too shocking to Oikawa that he had fallen for Iwaizumi, after all the years of supporting each other on and off the court, of complaining and teasing each other but sharing smiles nonetheless.

But Hanamaki and Matsukawa had a different type of friendship. They were more like partners in crime, eternally messing around and egging each other on. They were each other’s wingmen – they would pick up girls together and set each other up. You didn’t just go ahead and fall in love with your wingman; it was practically unimaginable.

And, Oikawa noted, watching Hanamaki closely, it was incredibly unfortunate. Hanamaki and Matsukawa, unlike himself and Iwaizumi, had remained close friends during the past ten years. Oikawa couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like for Hanamaki to stay by Matsukawa’s side as his best friend for so long, knowing that nothing could ever happen between them.

_How much unresolved tension would Hanamaki be feeling? _Oikawa wondered, noticing how Hanamaki looked slightly uncomfortable with Matsukawa’s arm around his shoulders but did nothing to free himself. _No closure at all. _

Oikawa had been aware of Hanamaki’s feelings for Matsukawa since their second year of high school, but it had seemed that Hanamaki caught on to Oikawa as well during their senior year. 

“Feelings suck, huh?” Hanamaki had wearily muttered out of the blue one evening as they packed up the gym after a particularly gruelling volleyball training.

Oikawa had noticed the way Hanamaki’s gaze flickered before lingering for the briefest of moments on Matsukawa’s turned back. He hadn’t commented on it; the two of them had always had a sort of unspoken rule that they would never actually talk about Hanamaki’s feelings. 

Oikawa had sighed, subconsciously turning to look at Iwaizumi, but snapping his head back quickly, hoping Hanamaki hadn’t noticed. But he could tell from the way Hanamaki shot him a tired smile that Hanamaki already knew. 

“Yeah,” Oikawa had mumbled, hating how admitting it to Hanamaki meant that he had to actually admit to himself as well. “It really sucks.”

That had been the one and only time they had actually acknowledged it out loud; they had spent the rest of the year pretending everything was normal, but every so often, they would meet each other’s gaze and share that resigned look that meant ‘_We’re both idiots and we really can’t do anything about it’._

Oikawa finished his drink and looked over at Hanamaki, but when he caught Hanamaki’s eye, Hanamaki seemed to notice that Oikawa had realised what was going on. Trying to distract Oikawa from the situation, Hanamaki brightly declared, “So, Oikawa, did you know that Iwa’s a sports trainer now?”

Oikawa regretted having that drink, because he said the first thing that came into his head, which was unfortunately, “Oh, so that’s why you’re still muscled!”

Iwaizumi nearly spat out his drink. “Shittykawa!” he exclaimed, wiping his mouth on the edge of his sleeve before running his hands through his hair.

Oikawa didn’t miss the smirk Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared.

Realising what he’d said, Oikawa panicked. “Well, I mean, none of the rest of us are like that! I’m a fucking project manager!” he spluttered, wishing he hadn’t just finished his drink so he could hide his face by taking another sip. Instead, he accidentally knocked his glasses off his face and had to suffer the embarrassment of Iwaizumi handing them back to him.

“Ah,” Hanamaki declared, sliding out of the booth and beckoning for Oikawa to join him. “I see we’re running out of drinks. Oikawa, come and grab some with me. I can’t carry everything by myself; I’m not a servant.”

Oikawa was about to tell Hanamaki to get drinks by himself when Hanamaki shot him a pointed glance. Oikawa sighed. “Okay, I’ll come help you.”

He followed Hanamaki out of the booth and towards the bar, but Hanamaki continued walking until they reached the far end of the bar. With a rather pained raise of his eyebrows, Hanamaki took a breath. “So.”

Oikawa pretended not to know what was going on, crossing his arms and pointing out, “Are we going to get more drinks or not?”

Hanamaki rolled his eyes and straightened his tie. “You know we’ll get more drinks. I just wanted to talk first.” He lowered his gaze, inspecting his polished black shoes. “Where they can’t hear us.”

“Okay.” Oikawa knew there was no escaping this conversation.

Hanamaki looked at him pensively, and for the first time, Oikawa realised that maybe Hanamaki had actually grown up. The young Hanamaki would never consciously seek out serious conversation. “Mattsun and I… we both know how you feel about Iwa.” Before Oikawa could demand to be told how Matsukawa found out, Hanamaki held up a hand. “We figured it out in high school, okay? I didn’t tell him. I just… I just want to know what the situation is now.”

Oikawa stared at him blankly. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen him in ten years. There is no situation.”

Hanamaki sighed, his expression unreadable. “Oikawa, from what I’ve seen tonight, you seem to still have some sort of feelings for him. You’re not very subtle, you know. But like…” He shrugged and shook his head. “Just let me know how you actually feel about him now, because honestly? I’ve been there. I can help, I guess.”

There was loud music playing in the bar, and for once, Oikawa was grateful for it. He hadn’t expected Hanamaki to be so open, and without the music pumping in the background to remind him that he was in a public place, Oikawa would probably have hugged him. He made a mental note not to drink too much more that night, or he’d likely profess a few things he’d certainly regret.

“I really don’t know,” he found himself blurting, not really thinking about what he was saying. “For the past ten years, I was fine. But then once Iwaizumi rang me, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I guess I’m different to how I was in high school, but the feeling is the same.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, embarrassed that he’d admitted something like that. “Stupid, I know. I just don’t know how else to explain it. It’s like I’m becoming an eighteen-year-old again,” he added with a dry laugh.

Hanamaki lightly rested a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “No, I get it,” he reassured him, surprisingly not teasing Oikawa. “Just give it time. You’ll work it out as you see him more. But Iwa’s really glad to see you again, you know,” he pointed out with just the slightest trace of his scheming grin. “You don’t have be worried about him not wanting to be friends or anything.”

Oikawa felt himself smiling. “Yeah.” There was a question that had been pressing him since he’d realised how Hanamaki still felt about Matsukawa, and he figured that he might as well ask now, seeing as Hanamaki seemed so willing to talk. He took a deep breath. “Isn’t it hard for you to be such close friends with Mattsun when you know you’re in love with him?”

Hanamaki tilted his head and bit his lip. “I suppose it is,” he began, but shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like… I’ve kind of just accepted it. I care about him a lot, Oikawa, and not just like this.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “We’re best friends, and I’m not going to let this ruin that. I’d rather just be friends for the rest of my life than fuck up our friendship by telling him how I feel. Really,” he said, looking more serious than Oikawa had ever seen him, “it still sucks sometimes, yeah? Because I know I’m never going to be able to tell him how much he actually means to me.” He dropped his gaze. “But I’m fairly content, honestly. He’s happy dating his girlfriend, and that’s really what matters, you know? And besides, I’d much rather be the one who’s there for him during his breakups than be the one being broken up with. Friendship lasts so much longer.”

Oikawa didn’t think he’d ever heard Hanamaki say something so positive but so sad at the same time. “Makki, you know it’s important for you to be happy too, right?” he ventured, hating the longing half-smile on Hanamaki’s face.

“I am.” Hanamaki nodded earnestly. “But you of all people would understand that it’s much better to have a friendship than have nothing. Doesn’t it feel so much better to have Iwaizumi back in your life again?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa said softly, gently cracking his knuckles. “I really don’t know how you manage, though. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

“A bit,” Hanamaki replied, and then that yearning smile was back. “But I just enjoy the moments we share. I know you might think it’s stupid that I would let things stay like this and never confess, but I guess I was too scared to every say anything when we were younger. And now it’s kinda been too long – I can’t exactly go up to him now and tell him I’ve been in love with him for over a decade.” He laughed softly, not meeting Oikawa’s gaze. “That would really be the betrayal of the century, huh.”

Oikawa took hold of both his shoulders. “Well, I guess we’re in this together,” he declared, and stepped up to the bar to buy drinks.

When they returned to the booth, Matsukawa demanded, “What the hell took you guys so long? Did you stop to chat up girls or something?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes; that couldn’t be further from the truth. “_No_, Mattsun,” he said with a laugh and took a sip from his drink. “You’re just impatient. What are you, an alcoholic?”

“It’s because he’s an engineer,” Hanamaki said as though it was obvious, sliding back into his spot next to Matsukawa. “Everyone knows engineers are renowned for excessive drinking.”

“I’m not an alcoholic!” Matsukawa protested, but he wasn’t overly believable as he drank his alcohol.

As they chatted, Oikawa realised how much he’d missed his friends. He had missed their banter and teasing; although he’d been on good terms with some of his university classmates and colleagues, nobody compared to these three. He hadn’t had such a good time in years, probably not since the beginning of university.

And because it was now past ten o’clock and Oikawa was drunk and tired, he decided it would be a good idea to vocalise that, declaring, “I really am glad to see everyone again! And I’m sorry for everything that happened and for losing contact!”

Iwaizumi clapped him on the shoulder, his cheeks flushed. “We’re glad to have you back, Shittykawa!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! i'm pretty happy with this chapter, especially because it's a lot longer than the previous ones, so let me know what you think of it!!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! leave a comment and let me know what you think!  
cry with me on tumblr (@midotaka-is-destiny, @wobuhuishuozhongwen) and twitter (@meiikoro)


End file.
